


To be sixteen

by chiptease



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (at one point), (if you read between the lines), (it's implied), Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternate Universe - War, American History, Cold War, Connor-centric, Depressed Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson Being an Asshole, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Oneshot, POV Connor, Protective Parent Hank Anderson, Soviet Union, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 08:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18465517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiptease/pseuds/chiptease
Summary: Agent Anderson confronts Chaslev "Connor" Sokolov about his failed field mission. Cold war AU.(Please note the indicated character death is not explicit.)





	To be sixteen

“If you don’t mind, Connor, I’m going to do the ringaround one more time, just so we’re completely clear.”

 

Any other day, he might have bit back a smile at hearing his senior address him by his office nickname. Any other day, Cheslav might have replied with an “of course, sir”, or perhaps, a bright “whatever you wish”. Any other day, maybe he would have felt anything other than cold, liquid dread at that.

 

Today was not, in fact, any other day. So agent Sokolov chose to instead remain silent under the eyes of the man at the desk across from him.

 

“You knew your targets.” Anderson’s fingers were already digging into the pocket of his suit for his battered box of Chesterfields. “You had your cover, and they were completely oblivious to your intentions.”

 

The cigarette was placed between his chapped lips, but his cold blue eyes  didn’t waver from his face. “Correct?”

 

“Correct, sir.”

 

“You had Kamsky and the woman cornered.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You had your gun loaded and out with them pressed against the wall, defenseless.” The end of his fag burned a furious crimson as he lit it, and took an inhale. “Everything had gone to plan.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Anderson leaned forward, the cloud of grey streaming through the crack in his mouth as he spoke. “And you let them both walk out of that room alive, undetained and unharmed.”

 

Cheslav wondered which of his next words might be his last. “That’s correct, sir.”

 

Anderson regarded him for a long few moments, a buffet of emotion laid plainly across his features. “You do realize what this looks like, Connor.”

 

“Yes, but-”

 

“A former Soviet, letting two other Soviets escape with sensitive nuclear information, with no signs of inhibilitation.”

 

“Sir-”

 

“With no skin off your back, or theirs, for the matter. Just the livelihoods of the American people.”

 

“But-”

 

“It’s exactly as I said when they first assigned you to me.” He chuckled. “This whole damn ‘rehabilitation’ deal means jack shit to you rats, and it always will.”

 

A heavy silence fell after his words. He sighed, willing his fingers to lax, to not ball into fists at his sides. “My loyalty for the country I risked everything for has not shifted.”

 

“Oh, I believe you, you fucking russki."

 

“I meant the United States, sir. I’m sure you’re aware this deal isn’t set in stone for everyone.”

 

The older man’s eyes narrowed, and Cheslav could see his teeth grit. “You really think you can come knocking at our door one day,” he said quietly. “Giving your spiel about how this country’s changed your view on the world and how you’ll give up everything you know just to help spread the merits of capitalism, and just expect America to welcome you with open arms?”

 

“It was a bit more complicated than that, sir.”

 

“Yeah, well, they did anyways. And this is where we end up because of it.”

 

“I didn’t let them go because I felt any sort of camaraderie towards them, sir.”

 

He took another drag and rested his head on his fist. “Then enlighten me, agent.”

 

Cheslav knew he was walking on a minefield. He knew the truth was more outrageous than the fiction Anderson had surely, and to a degree rightfully, spinned in his mind. Than the lie they all would come to believe. But he had to say it, regardless. “She was just a girl, sir.”

 

Anderson’s face shifted from across to him, confusion knitting his brow. “What?”

 

“She couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. Kamsky’s companion.”

 

A few more seconds passed between Anderson let out a bark of laughter. “You’re trying to claim you’re a pure soul, now?”

 

“I’m claiming that she was a young girl.”

 

“I’ll humour you, then,” he said, and waved his hand. “Why didn’t you turn them both in?”

 

“I know what our forces would have done to extract that information from them.” His fingers itched to bunch the fabric of his pants, but he held them at bay. Signs of nervousness wouldn’t help him now. “I don’t care about Kamsky, but I couldn’t let that happen to that girl.”

 

“Then why would you let Kamsky go?”

 

“She must not have had any other way to get back,” Cheslav said simply. “I couldn’t bring myself to shoot a child.”

 

“And why not?” Anderson pressed. The disbelief had considerably shrunken in his tone - he now pressed as if he was searching for something. Almost with a hint of desperation. “You’ve killed many other men and women before, Connor.”

 

His hand twitched. “Because she was a child.”

 

“Do you not realize that this woman’s life might have meant the loss of millions of more American ones?”

 

His breath hitched. “She was a confused, misguided child.”

 

“An individual you were assigned to assassinate for the betterment of humanity.”

 

Cheslav couldn’t stop himself as his hand finally clenched into a ball and pounded the desk.

 

“She was a child, Hank! And if murdering children means bettering humanity, then I won’t be its saviour!”

 

Anderson sat unmoving as Cheslav continued to shout. “She’s not going to be the one to press the button to murder them! Kamsky isn’t! None of them are, because they’re just like us in the end - they’re scared for their children like her, as scared of us as we are of them, and they’re just holding their breath just like every goddamn American on this continent!”

 

Chest heaving, he faintly felt something hot and wet on his cheek. His finger came to brush the tear away. It was futile, he knew, but he could at least pretend preserve his dignity.

 

His eyes returned to Anderson’s face. It no longer held shock. Rather, it held something more… intimate. Something Cheslav hadn’t seen before, in his years of working there with him.

 

“You’re going to be killed for your pinko ideologies,” was all he said. “Hold out your wrists, son. You’re under arrest.”

 

Cheslav didn’t respond beyond raising his wrists together. As Anderson clicked the stainless steel together, he noticed something.

 

He was no longer looking at him. Rather, Anderson’s eyes had fallen to the side.

 

As he was escorted to the hallway and to his assigned firing squad, he spared a glance over his shoulder. It would remain unmet, and as the door closed, the sight of an old man with his eyes trained on his hands would be the last distinctive memory Cheslav would hold of his boss.


End file.
